


Dessert First, Please!

by Kei on Ice (Maki_Kei), Mr_Beans



Series: Dear Yuri [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Banter, Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Couch Cuddles, Couch Sex, Flavored Lube, Honeymoon, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Needy Victor Nikiforov, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rimming, Top Katsuki Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 10:17:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9887963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maki_Kei/pseuds/Kei%20on%20Ice, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Beans/pseuds/Mr_Beans
Summary: “What’s this?” Yuuri scoffs.“Honey, it’s technically our wedding night. We have to be cheesy and romantic, by law.” Viktor chuckles. He sits at the chair across the table from Yuuri.“Well, if we are going to do that, then we may as well go the extra mile and run upstairs to put on tuxedos.” Yuuri jokes.“We can.” Viktor half flirts, but is half completely serious.“I am not going to go through all the trouble of dressing fancy when we both know you’re just going to take it off later.” Yuuri looks at him past hooded lids, glasses perched low on his nose, with his mouth quirked up in a little smirk.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Technically this is a dump from our other fic, "Dear Yuri", that we wrote awhile back (with chapter 6) but it became too explicit to post there, HOWEVER, it works just fine as a stand-alone too. So here you go, this is the unofficial honeymoon after they elope in Dear Yuri, which is all you need to know to understand what's going on. I hope you enjoy regardless!

Yuuri’s skills bring forth a quick curry from nothing but leftovers. He flits around the kitchen as he prepares the meal, Viktor meanwhile making himself useful by getting things for Yuuri and setting the table. Once the food finished being prepared, Viktor has a sudden idea -- which is so painfully obvious to Yuuri, who can nearly see the light bulb above his head.

“Wait here.” Viktor says, running upstairs.

“Seeing as you now own fifty percent of my estate, there’s nowhere else I can go.” Yuuri chuckles, holding up his ring finger. “That, and since you’re not going to, I have to finish setting the table… So.” Viktor leaves, seemingly ignoring the sass, which is his most prominent quality. Viktor soon returns with a box that he promptly sets on the coffee table across the room.

“Can you start turning out all the lights?” Viktor asks, opening the box and removing its contents, just barely out of Yuuri’s sight.

“Sure… Though now you’ve piqued my interest.” Yuuri makes his rounds, closing all the blinds and curtains and flicking off every light switch on the first floor. Once he finishes, Viktor asks him to sit back down and close his eyes, now doing something almost suspicious in the corner. Yuuri puts both hands over his eyes, listening intently for any indication as to what his husband is doing. There’s a… clinking sound? Then a clicking, more rustling from the box and…

“ _ Yuu- _ ri, you can open them now.” Viktor says, breath hot on the back of Yuuri’s neck, making him flinch. He keeps his hands in position a little longer, almost worried about what he might see. Yuuri slowly uncovers his eyes, jaw dropping at what is now before him. He’s almost less impressed by the spectacle than how fast Viktor got it done, as dozens of little tea lights now sit on every flat surface of the dining room, giving off a dim glow.

“What’s this?” Yuuri scoffs.

“Honey, it’s technically our wedding night. We  _ have  _ to be cheesy and romantic, by law.” Viktor chuckles. He sits at the chair across the table from Yuuri.

“Well, if we are going to do that, then we may as well go the extra mile and run upstairs to put on tuxedos.” Yuuri jokes.

“We  _ can. _ ” Viktor half flirts, but is half completely serious.

“I am  _ not  _ going to go through all the trouble of dressing fancy when we both know you’re just going to take it off later.” Yuuri looks at him past hooded lids, glasses perched low on his nose, with his mouth quirked up in a little smirk.

“Wow, I am going to hold you up to that statement, tuxedo or not.” Viktor breathes, before picking up his spoon and taking a bite of curry. He lets out a soft but appreciative, “Vkusno~”

Yuuri laughs, and begins working on his own meal; their first meal together as a married couple. The idea of which Viktor cannot seem to get over, his fingers playing with the ring, rolling it with his thumb, his eyes staring up at Yuuri every so often, lidded and intense. Yuuri ignores it to the best of his ability, trying for once to actually finish his meal. It isn’t before too long that Yuuri can feel the slowly changing atmosphere become fixed, Viktor’s stormy eyes unfaltering. His pupils are larger than usual due to the low lighting, Yuuri notes, and his bites are becoming less and less frequent.

“ _ Y u u r i.”  _ Viktor breathes, enunciating practically every letter, his voice low and riding a gust of air that is soft enough that Yuuri may not have heard if he weren’t the only other person present. Within seconds of his name being pronounced in full, Yuuri can feel the dragging of toes lightly up his leg, pulling at denim as it rode up his thigh.

“Viktor…” Yuuri sighs. “Can we finish one single meal, without first

feeding your libido?”

“I adore you.” Viktor ignores the complaint. “I adore your cooking,” he continues. Yuuri looks up, meeting Viktor’s sensual stare. He lies his hand, palm up on the table, an invitation. Yuuri gives a small smile, looking into his lap. He stands ever so slowly, matching Viktor’s gaze. He rests his elbow down, leaning closer, his lips a breath away, close enough to feel the heat and shortness of Viktor’s own breath. Yuuri lowers his eyes, his smile turning smug, his focus then turns down onto Viktor’s plate as he picks up a hunk of meat between his fingers, and lifts it to Viktor’s lips.

“If you adore my cooking so much then why won’t you please just eat the food?” Yuuri wonders aloud, the corners of his mouth suddenly dropping into seriousness.

“I adore the way you talk to me when you’re exasperated.” Viktor says in spite of it, but takes the food from Yuuri after he finishes his sentence, making sure to wrap his mouth around those pretty little fingers, sucking and deliberately wetting them down before he removes the meat from between them. “I adore the way you talk to me when you’re not.” He says once he’s swallowed.

“Maybe I’ll talk to you in even more ways, once you finish your food.” Yuuri laughs.

“I  _ adore _ you, Yuuri.” Viktor beams. “And I adore that you are married to me, and I am married to you, and even now I can hardly believe that.” The pace of his voice becomes faster and more excited with every word he says.

“We are married now.” Yuuri remembers aloud, falling into his seat, less because he forgot and more because it still feels so surreal. Viktor guides his toes to the inside of Yuuri’s thigh, pressing slowly in between his legs. “Viktor Nikiforov,” Yuuri gasps. “Is married to me. So would he be Viktor Katsuki now? Maybe, Viktor Nikiforov Katsuki, or Viktor Katsuki Nikiforov--” The words tumble from Yuuri’s mouth between sharp breaths, long slender toes working him in sensual circles.

“Yes.” Viktor’s mouth cracks into a smile, bringing a hand forward and placing it on top of Yuuri’s.

“Obviously we-- we aren’t finishing again tonight.” Yuuri complains.

“Well, we won’t be finishing our  _ food. _ ” Viktor corrects. Yuuri scoffs, but the judgemental puff of air turns into something more resembling arousal half way through.

“Fine, then at least let’s,” Yuuri starts, pushing Viktor’s foot away. “Move to the couch…?”

“Mmm,” Viktor hums, standing and moving around the table, bending over to take Yuuri’s mouth into a deep kiss, catching him as he stands.

“Viktor, couch.” Yuuri gasps, balancing himself with Viktor’s arm. Viktor hums complacently before hooking Yuuri’s legs around his waist, lifting him by the thighs but not breaking from the kiss for even a second. The added weight of another body in the front of him makes Viktor’s movements clumsy, his impatience not helping in the least, and he all but throws Yuuri onto the couch before crawling eagerly on top of him upon landing. Makkachin bounds over excitedly, likely expecting that it’s tv time or something, eagerly pawing at Viktor’s arm.

“Not now Makkachin, we can play later.” Viktor swipes Makkachin’s desperate paws away, before replacing his hand in Yuuri’s hair, tangling his fingers in it and tugging as the latter sucks Viktor’s bottom lip into his mouth and bites down. “Yuuri,” Viktor moans into his mouth, tongue sliding in and out of the space impatiently, nipping back at Yuuri’s top lip, and then his bottom lip, and then pulling in and sucking on his tongue. “Make it so I can't walk tomorrow.” Viktor pleas. Yuuri’s response to this, is grabbing him by the shoulders and flipping them around, his knee planting on the couch between Viktor’s legs, who feels a tingling wave wash over him, light headed and hot.

“Hm?” Yuuri breathes, pulling his thigh higher, letting Viktor’s hips grind against him. Viktor’s motion causes himself to let out a slow moan. Yuuri leans back down, taking Viktor in, kissing him, their bodies rolling against each other in attempts to feel everything all at once. “Tell me more.” Yuuri hums on a single breath.

“I want you…” Viktor vaguely explains, his eyes fluttering open just enough to peer up at Yuuri, silver lashes tickling flushed cheeks.

“Want me where?” Yuuri slides his lips down Viktors jaw, sinking his teeth into his neck. Viktor lets out a slow but high sound, losing himself in his own voice. His breath is short, his grip tightening their grasp around Yuuri’s shoulders, locking his legs behind Yuuri to give him more leverage to drag himself against that supple thigh.

“Here...” Viktor finally let’s out, breathing through his mouth, eye shut and brows furrowed as all his concentration went to containing himself, as he rolls his hips against Yuuri. His eyes are half open to look up at his husband, glazed and distant, though his smile is cocky and almost a challenge. Viktor’s hands cradles Yuuri’s neck, tugging his ear toward his lips, his teeth taking the lobe of it gently between them. “Fill me, Yuuri,” his breath is hot and needy inside Yuuri’s ear. “Break me.  _ Fuck me hard.  _ Yuuri, I need you.” Viktor begs.

“Off,” Yuuri tugs at Viktor’s shirt collar, and while he is busy lifting it over his head, Yuuri grasps the cool metal clasps of Viktor’s belt. The sound of leather against denim makes Viktor voice hitch, which Yuuri sees soon enough. “Oh?” Yuuri breathes, not able to stop the grin that blooms over his face.

“Ooh.” Viktor repeats after him from the sensation of rolling his erection into Yuuri’s palm.

“No,” Yuuri moves his hand away, to Viktor’s dismay. “You’re coming from your ass alone tonight.” A mix of excitement and disappointment surge up Viktor’s spine, causing him to shudder. Yuuri chuckles, eyebrows furrowing in amusement. “Wow, duly noted.” He stands, and Viktor whines as he watches Yuuri make his way upstairs.

Yuuri rummages through his bedside table until he finds the strawberry lube and a couple of condoms, sliding the drawer closed with his hip before making his way back downstairs. Viktor hums skeptically when Yuuri arrives.

“I prefer the flavor of the one we just got.” Viktor gripes.

“Well, your ass can’t taste... and unlike me, you’re not even going to be eating any.” Yuuri reminds him, his words sparking excitement in Viktor's spine. “And this way, we also won’t waste any of your expensive ass lube.” Viktor hums thoughtfully.

“That’s true.” He chuckles at the double entendre. Yuuri notices that during his brief absence, Viktor had moved a few candles to the coffee table, still in the process of placing one just as Yuuri lands on the last step of the stairs. Viktor turns away from Yuuri, his smile becoming seductive, pointedly sliding his hands down his hips hooking his fingers into his waistband. He runs his hands across his thighs, bending at the waist until he glides his pants to the floor where he leaves his palms, balancing his weight there. He intentionally spreads his legs when he steps free, moving one to each side deliberately giving Yuuri a clear view of his balls. He straightens, picking up his jeans, casually tossing them at Yuuri’s feet with a flick of his wrist, before gracefully settling himself back onto the couch.

“Damn.” Yuuri appraises, walking over and dropping his pants and boxer briefs unceremoniously along the way, adding a sassy little shake of his hips as he goes, setting the bottle and company on the coffee table to the side of the couch. Using the palms of his hands, Yuuri spreads Viktor’s thighs apart from the knees and pulls him aggressively over his own lap, sliding seductively onto the couch underneath. He can feel Viktor’s erection against his own now, causing a shiver to rush up his back upon contact, and he bumps their foreheads together to close the distance between them. Viktor bucks his hips to gain friction against Yuuri, letting out a gasp. Yuuri grinds into him, appreciating the building tension for a few moments before sliding back off of the couch. Not wanting his trip to be for nothing, he grabs the lube and clicks it open.

“ _ Yuuri _ …” Viktor whines, frustrated.

“Turn around,” Yuuri orders, slapping Viktor’s thigh, who soon obeys and rolls onto his chest. “Ass up.” Yuuri continues as he fills his palm with cold liquid, warming it between his fingers before pressing a slick index finger against Viktor’s perineum. He soon begins tantalizingly circling the pucker above that, getting Viktor twitching and shivering before slipping it in,  _ just _ to the first knuckle.

“Yuuri, please hurry.” Viktor begs.

“If you’re not patient I will go slower.” Yuuri threatens, and that gets his husband quiet. Yuuri rewards him by pressing his finger in, just enough to lubricate Viktor, then pulling out again. A whine about the loss escapes him, but he quiets again as Yuuri’s hands knead at his cheeks, instead letting out a prolonged groan of appreciation.

“That’s nice, like a massage.” Viktor cooes, burying his face further into the back of the couch. Soon the palms spread him, and he feels his cock bob as warm breath cascades into the gap. Viktor tries to muffle the loud moans that escape him, bracing into the cushions as Yuuri’s hot mouth drives him mad at his entrance, licking and sucking and biting, but not penetrating.

“Let me hear your voice,” Yuuri whispers against his skin, the trickle of air making him shudder from sensation. “Cry out for me baby,” the endearment Yuuri only uses in these very intimate times could have driven Viktor over the edge had he been focusing less. “Do that, and I will fuck you.” The noises Yuuri’s words evoked are already audible as Viktor slides his face down the back cushion, only his forehead resting there anymore.

Yuuri chuckles.

“Good boy,” He hums, plunging his tongue in. It doesn’t provide much stretch, nor can it reach his prostate, but just the lewdness of it alone makes Viktor want a quick release. “I really do love the strawberry.” Yuuri’s voice is slurred and muffled, and the fact that his tongue curls up inside him on the “Ls” and the rumble of his voice creates vibrations, all just seems to go straight to Viktor’s dick.

“Ah!” Viktor shouts, fisting the loose part of the blanket that is tucked into the couch.

“You’re doing good,  _ so _ good.” Yuuri purrs, the sensation of these vibrations is a new and exciting thing, especially coupled with Yuuri continuing to tease Viktor’s insides with his tongue, moving rhythmically. Viktor’s head lulls forward into the crack of couch, the feeling dizzying, his breath short, his body warm. He can almost feel it all over, from his hips to his toes, he’s so damn close and yet somehow so far. A wave of it hits him, his hand reaching down instinctively to try and ride it. Yuuri catches it, gripping him by the wrist firmly.

“Ah-ah! No touching.” Yuuri lifts his head and removes his tongue, smiling wickedly down at the mess he’s made of Viktor past foggy and smudged glasses. If Viktor could breathe he’d argue, but his chest is rising and falling rapidly for air, every part of him aching for the grip of his husband to let him free. Yuuri’s hand isn’t helping as it navigates back down, pressing two lubed fingers into him relentlessly, digging in deep.

“Yuuri…” His voice trails off from there, his hand balling into a fist as he’s hit with another wave of it, this time almost painful. His speech is lost, a broken mix of english words tying with russian sounds.

“Are you moving your hips?” Yuuri muses, putting a slow pressure where Viktor wants it to be, hard and fast. Viktor doesn’t even know, he guesses he must be.

“Yuuri…” Viktor’s voice is quiet and pleading, no more than a word, but more than enough to gain Yuuri’s attention.

“Magic words?” Yuuri’s hand twists, a third finger slipping in with ease. Viktor shakes his head, trying to convey what he couldn’t speak... “Would you really cum from this?”

“Pleeease,” the sound is high, almost pathetic. Viktor takes a breath, trying to compose himself enough to make coherent sentences. “I want… I want you inside of me.”

“I already am.” Yuuri hums, as he begins scissoring his fingers.

“Yuuri-- aah, please,” Viktor breathes. “I want to cum  _ with _ you.” Yuuri’s hand halts. Then slowly, torturously, he pulls out, replacing his hand on Viktor’s thigh in order to turn him around. Viktor flushes at the sight of Yuuri, his bangs a ruffled mess, the hair at his nape clinging from sweat, glasses skewed, pupils dilated and face flustered.

“You say you don’t want to walk tomorrow right?” Yuuri recalls, grabbing the lube with one hand and a condom from the coffee table with the other. “I won’t go easy on you.” He rips it open between his teeth, discarding the wrapper on the table and rolling the latex over himself, clicking the cap of the lube open once more.

Viktor mopes. “I want to  _ feel _ you come inside of me,” he shudders just from the thought of the spilling heat. “I don’t think it matters as much now that we’re married, anyway.” Yuuri feels blood rushing to his face and cock, the decision to lose the condom becoming the easiest one he has made in months. He flinches at the cold of the lube as it runs across his now bare skin, but his hand warms it as he slicks himself as fast as he can.

“We cum together, okay?” Yuuri says as he positions himself. Viktor nods and gives Yuuri a look of, ‘I'll try’, as he secures one knee in the couch and and the other hooked around Yuuri’s waist, flinging his arms around his husband’s neck. Yuuri anchors himself with one hand in Viktor’s hair and the other on his shoulder as he pushes himself inside, Viktor's hole grasping and releasing around it from the sudden pressure. “So eager.” Yuuri teases, voice dark.

“Jus-- Just bottom out.” Viktor gasps, his breath catching in his throat.

“If you’re sure,” Yuuri begins, pushing in slowly. “You know our safeword.”

“When have we ever had to use it?” Viktor pants, breath becoming more labored the further Yuuri sinks in.

“It’s just a precaution.” Yuuri grabs Viktor’s hips just then, plunging himself in and easily bottoming out, Viktor becoming tight around his full length.

“ _ \--Ah! _ ” Viktor’s cry sounds more startled than euphoric. Yuuri will just have to change that then. He pushes a foot into the floor, digging his toes into the carpet and propping Viktor on his other knee to get the angle just right, laying him back against the couch before dragging out and hesitating at the tip.

“You alright?” Yuuri asks teasingly.

“ _ Fuck _ .” Viktor cusses between the teeth, which are biting down on his bottom lip. Yuuri chuckles, sliding forward forcefully in search of Viktor’s prostate, watching his face for signs of ecstasy. A couple thrusts contort it in pain, a few more bordering on pleasure, a couple that are -- aha. Viktor yelps, throwing his head back so that silver hair pools against the back of the couch, furrowing his brow in pleasure.

“There it is,” Yuuri purrs, leaning in and pressing his lips into Viktor’s collarbone. “You’re doing, ah, amazing.” Yuuri says after building up a consistent rhythm, grazing or landing spot on with every thrust.

“Yuuri,  _ Yuuri! _ ” Viktor moans his name in each breath, the only word his mind can logically wrap itself around, his tone a warning that he is going to climax as it resounds breathy and fervent. “I’m sorry, I'm going to-- I can't!”

“Wait.” Yuuri warns through clenched teeth. Viktor tugs on the hair at the back of Yuuri’s head. Yuuri reaches down and grabs the base of Viktor’s cock, holding it tight to prevent him from orgasming.  _ Shit. _ “Just hold on a bit longer babe,” Yuuri pants into his clavicle. “You’re doing absolutely _ perfect _ .” The words roll off his tongue with a bit of a thicker accent than normal, Yuuri so absent he nearly slips into Japanese.

Viktor tries rutting into Yuuri’s fist, attempting at release as the pounding inside him begins to border on painful, but Yuuri just grips tighter to prevent movement. Viktor’s toes curl, his voice becomes a high whimper, breathing so heavy it is becoming  _ difficult _ to breathe. With a few more strokes Yuuri’s moans begin to surface more often, thrusts becoming erratic, teeth pinching at the skin of Viktor’s chest bruisingly. Viktor can feel his own climax building stronger behind Yuuri’s fist with every thrust, things becoming over sensitive, the internal spasming coming before the release.

Then, finally, he feels Yuuri’s grip loosen, and then let go entirely. Warmth shoots through his length, streaking his stomach in a sticky mess. But that isn’t the end, as Yuuri achieves an orgasm and fills him with wet heat, Viktor’s aftershocks transition into a second orgasm, only much stronger this time and over stimulated, making him want to curl away from the touch. Yuuri collapses into Viktor’s chest, the couple heaving and trembling and making a mess as they come down from their post-orgasmic state.

“I absolutely _adore_ you.” Viktor breathes shakily.

“I love you too, Vitya.” Yuuri’s voice is somewhere between a laugh and a gasp, and it’s beautiful. Viktor presses his lips into Yuuri’s forehead, elated just to be holding him.“I’m tired…” Yuuri laments.

“You think  _ you’re _ tired?” Viktor chuckles.

“Sorry…” Yuuri’s voice is small and weak.

“Don’t you dare apologize.” Viktor scorns. Yuuri pulls out slowly, causing Viktor to shudder at the friction against still over sensitive skin, before shifting his position so he can lay on Viktor’s chest properly. He reaches for the tissues on the coffee table, wiping them both clean and discarding the tissues before yanking the blanket out of the seams of the couch. The two shift a little to wrap themselves up in the warm cloth, Yuuri grabbing the remote and flicking through the channels.

“Yuuri, why are you squinting?” Viktor asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Because it’s hard to see.” Yuuri answers plainly, leaning closer to the screen.

“But you’re wearing your glasses?” Viktor points out. Yuuri turns to Viktor, giving him an incredulous look over the brims of said glasses.

“They are too smudged from your ass for me to see anything, and I don’t have a shirt on to wipe them off with.” Yuuri clicks his tongue, rolling his gaze back onto the screen, pretending not to notice the somewhat proud smile Viktor wore. Viktor reaches to Yuuri’s face, removing the blue frames and peering through the lenses for himself.

“Wow,” Viktor gasps with genuine surprise. “They  _ are _ really dirty!” He takes the rim of the blanket to try wiping them clean, but only manages to smear the sweat and lube over them further.

“Thanks, that helps,” Yuuri says sarcastically. “Hon, don't even try, they're too far gone and will require cleaning solution. Remind me to never eat you out with my glasses on again.”

“I'll try.” Viktor chuckles. Upon hearing the domestic tiff and the tv, Makkachin’s ears perk and he trots over to them, giving expectant eyes.

“Alright, come up.” Yuuri gives in. Makkachin woofs excitedly, jumping onto the couch and resting on top of them. Viktor tangles one hand in Yuuri’s hair and the other in Makkachin’s, the smile returning his face.

“I love our family.” Viktor laughs into the top of Yuuri's head.

“Mm, but it’s been too busy lately.” Yuuri comments, lacing his fingers into Viktor's across Makkachin’s back. Viktor pushes out a lip, pouting for a second before smiling again.

“Then we will just have to find more time to get away.” Viktor suggests, burying his face in the crook of Yuuri's neck.

“I like that…” Yuuri smiles. “I like that a lot.” Viktor pulls his husband close, kissing the soft skin on his shoulder and smiling.

“Yuuri?” Viktor’s thumb rubs against a freckle, his voice a warm purr.

“Mm?” Yuuri hums, having settled on the evening news.

“Would you mind bringing our dinner over? I’m hungry.” Viktor gives an innocent smile, though he should have known better. Yuuri pushes himself up to properly slap against Victor's chest hard, leaving a red mark behind.

“You are  _ so _ damn lucky that you’re cute.” Yuuri scoffs.

“I know.” Viktor beams. 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a kudo if you liked, and drop us a comment if you want to see more content like this! (Whether or not it's Dear Yuri related, we will likely be writing more one shots for our own self indulgence, but let us know if you'd like us to actually post more!)
> 
> If you want to scream with us about Yuri on Ice, we now have a joint [tumblr](https://alexakei.tumblr.com/) (We will finish setting up soon, ahaha...We have no time to write Dear Yuri let alone set up our tumblr, so for now it's mostly open for chatting. Also thank you so much to [Mishka_kitty](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishka_kitty/pseuds/Mishka_kitty) for helping us figure out how to internet, you are amazing!) We will soon start adding content on there, I (Kei) may even do some artwork for Dear Yuri! Let us know if you'd like to see that kind of thing, just knowing you all want it gives us the motivation to actually produce it.
> 
> Love you all! (Beans)


End file.
